


May You Bloom and Grow

by xXxVioletSkyxXx



Series: The Mandalorian [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Fatherhood, Fluff, Found Family, ManDadlorian, post chapter 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28555521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXxVioletSkyxXx/pseuds/xXxVioletSkyxXx
Summary: "S'cuy, Ad'ika," Din said quietly, letting the words he had told the child flow through his mind. The pledge of fatherhood hung softly on his heart; the formal ownership of the child's wellbeing had not been taken lightly.It was only a sentence, a short one at that. But Din removed his helm and brought the child close to him, their foreheads touching, little claws gripping the scruff of Din's chin as he repeated the words over and over. He tried to tell the child how much he cared for him, loved him, even without words. His throat had thickened as the child's eyes widened at the sight. Din knew that he was nothing special to look at, but he hoped that the child wasn't disappointed.
Series: The Mandalorian [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2088117
Comments: 14
Kudos: 173





	May You Bloom and Grow

It had been a few days since Din and the child had left Sorgan, and Din was settling into having an extra passenger aboard. There had been others, of course. The ship belonged to the covert, and more than once, Din had ferried Mandalorians to and from Nevarro. But other than bounties, Din was almost always alone. It suited him; the silence was comfortable. Din had never felt the need for a co-pilot or a companion— he was a bounty hunter, and he travelled alone.

But now he had a child, a little one who depended on him for everything. Din had said the words, the baby was his now, and overnight, his occupation had quickly become much more complicated.

The ship had been drifting for more than a day, but Din kept a careful watch on his surroundings. He knew that the empire was after the baby, so he kept his movements unpredictable, never staying on one planet for more than a few hours. He refuelled on backwater stations, filling up the _Crest_ with rations and water enough for a week or more. He had no way of contacting the covert until they found a new home, and Din knew that he couldn't ask more of them. While the child was Din's _ad'ika,_ he was also a fugitive of the empire _and_ the Guild. He wouldn't bring more fire on their heads.

Din checked and then double-checked the nav-comp before opening the airlock. The child had been settled for more than an hour after his evening meal, but he might be lonely. Din was anxious to be with him once again. He was quiet, Din thought with a smile but occupied. His pram was on the other side of the room, but Din was content that the child was calm. The durasteel knob was in his hands, and the loth-cat plush Din had bought the child in Dantooine was resting at his feet. Once he was sure the child was settled, Din settled into an evening of busywork.

Even with his new _beskar'gam,_ Din had kept his durasteel armour. When he had time, he smelted it with his cauterizing tool to strip it off tools he could use on the _Crest._ It held a certain amount of nostalgia; _beskar_ was the pride of a Mandalorian. The rhyme he had been taught as a foundling ran through his mind, and Din found himself humming, tapping his foot as he worked.

The child made a noise from his pram, and Din turned his head, still unused to the sounds of a child on his ship. He was proud (if not content) that the child's squalls and babbles didn't send Din scrambling for his blaster anymore. Instead, he grinned to himself, putting down his tool, excited to show the child what he was working on.

"Hey, kid," Din said, his voice sounding rough through his modulator. The child turned his head, chirping quietly and looked up at Din inquisitively. He clutched at his blanket, his eyes searching Din's helmet as if he was confused.

 _Oh,_ Din thought suddenly, his heart warming. _The child didn't recognize me without the armour._

Din wore his flight suit or sometimes just his tunic when they were alone. And the helmet, of course. Even though he had said the words and the child was his, Din hesitated to remove his helm where the baby could see.

That wasn't to say that his qualms over covering his body hadn't lessened over time. It was different when they were off the ship, but when it was just them (and the _Crest_ had enough fuel to run the heater), Din let himself be comfortable. But it was strange, in every sense, Din knew that he was the child's _buir,_ but he couldn't say it in front of the child. Would the child even understand him? Would it mean anything for Din to announce himself as the child's father? Would it change how Din saw their relationship, to say it aloud?

It was nonsense, but Din had yet to remove it. And now the child was afraid, and it was Din's fault.

Din reached for the child, his hands hesitating over the child's belly when the baby flinched suddenly, scrambling backwards in his pram.

"Kid?" Din asked, trying not to panic. _Maker,_ did the kid think he was an imp? "Kid, it's just me,"

"Uh?" the baby inquired, his eyes round and confused.

"Uh, I took the armour off," Din said, floundering for any words that would provide a measure of comfort to the child. He gestured to his armour, hanging on its hooks across the hold. "But it's just me. I know I look different,"

Din reached down once again, his hands moving slowly. But the child accepted being touched, and when Din raised him closer to his chest, the baby burrowed himself into Din's shoulder.

Din looked down to see the child's expression, but he had pressed himself close to Din's body, nestling his head in the crook of Din's neck. Din shifted his head to allow the child's ear to rest under his chin and started, confused, as the baby made a strange noise, his claws digging into Din's shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Din asked, but the baby didn't move further, unhappy but unmoving in Din's arms.

It wasn't until Din realized what the baby had discovered that he relaxed.

"Oh, I washed it," Din said, resting a hand on the child's back. "I know it smells funny. I'm sorry I scared you,"

The baby mewled into Din's chest, and something in his heart softened.

The number of foundlings in the covert in Nevarro had been decreasing for years. Still, before he found the child, Din himself had never held a baby before. He felt skittish around children; their wants and needs were eclectic and ever-changing. He hadn't the patience to wait for them to explain what they meant. And of course, as children, they wore no _beskar_ except for games and training. Seeing them barefaced made Din uneasy.

But the child was different. He couldn't speak, which was both a relief and a stumbling block; Din had to anticipate the child's needs rather than respond to them. The child was patient with him, growing more vocal and responsive with time. And Din knew that it would take time, whatever the imps wanted with him, whatever they had been using him for… giving him up was the biggest mistake he had ever made. He'd regret that day for the rest of his life. But he'd wear his _beskar'gam_ with honour, a constant reminder of his choice to go back for the baby.

"It's time you were washed too," Din said softly, shifting the baby in his arms so he could face him. "You think I didn't notice all the mud in your jumper?

"Uh?" the baby exclaimed, and Din chuckled, holding the baby carefully as he walked to the galley.

Din set the child down on a crate and rifled through the lockers for a basin large enough to hold the baby. He didn't think that the child would respond well to the sonic, at least the first few times. The unit's noises might scare the child, remind him of that machine Dr. Pershing had used on him in Nevarro. He couldn't bear the thought of scaring the baby any more than he already had.

Din sighed, coming to the expected conclusion that he didn't have anything that could be of use. The _Crest_ didn't have much that could be useful for a child.

He could hold him, Din thought, looking over to the baby. The tank was half-full, so long as he was careful, and talked to the baby while he was doing so, maybe that would be okay.

"We're going to try something different," Din said, picking up the child. The baby tilted his head inquisitively, and he smiled. Was that all it took to make the baby content? Did he just like being held? "Don't be afraid," he murmured, holding the baby close.

Din walked carefully to the 'fresher, toeing off his socks before opening the shower unit.

"Oh," Din said, suddenly realizing the child was still wearing his jumper. He shifted the baby in his arms, looking for the clasp at the back, unbuttoning it carefully. He held the baby in one arm as he fished one of his arms out, then the other, finally shimmying the filthy fabric down his body. The baby smiled up at him, giggling as Din tossed the jumper to the entrance of the 'fresher with a groan. "You'll just have to wear something of mine till that's dry, okay?"

The baby grinned, and Din braced himself and turned on the shower unit. The water was lukewarm at best, sporadic between warm and cold. The baby didn't seem to mind, shrieking happily as he tried to catch water droplets as they rained down on him.

"Having fun?" Din asked with a smile. The baby shrieked again, and Din felt his cheeks warm at how _happy_ the child was. He'd have to fill the water tank next time they landed; the child deserved things that made him happy.

Din reached for a bar of soap, holding the baby close to him as he shifted. The child's hands and feet were filthy from crawling and walking across the grating in the _Crest_. He held the baby across his forearm, his hand cupping the baby's head as he lowered the bar to the child's belly. The child giggled when the bar made contact.

"Oh, this is funny, is it?" Din said, and the child smiled. "Let's get you clean,"

It had been a while since Din had had a real water shower, and he took advantage of the time to clean himself and the baby as best as he could while still in his tunic. The baby was cooperative, but Din took care to be careful washing his little body with a gentleness he had forgotten he possessed. The baby squirmed as Din washed his face, running a washcloth over his ears and back before shutting off the unit.

"Time to get dry," Din said quietly, and the child smiled, grabbing hold of Din's shoulder and tucking his face under his chin.

Din didn't have anything in the way of a towel, so a dry tunic would have to do. He dried the child first, mindful of how cold the _Crest_ was without the heater on. The baby was hesitant to pull his face out of Din's shoulder, so Din dried the child around it, wrapping him tightly in the tunic before placing him on the cot.

"Better?" Din asked, and the child giggled. The only parts of the child Din could see were his ears and his face, bundled warmly on the edge of Din's cot.

Din pulled his armour rack open, looking for the spare tunic he hoped he still had. He didn't have many personal effects, and even though the _Crest_ was as much his home as the covert, he wasn't nostalgic. All of his things were meant to be used; everything was practical. But now he had a child, properly now. Whenever they stopped for fuel or food, Din walked with the child through the markets, searching for things suitable for a baby. It wasn't an exaggeration now that the child had more personal effects than Din did. He shuddered to think of how long the baby had been in his pram, alone and afraid. How could anyone have treated him that way?

Din smiled, spotting a piece of red fabric in the back of the cupboard before pulling it out with care. The tunic was old, hooded and ragged, but Din had held onto it like a vice. It was the only thing he had left from his home planet, the red tunic he had worn the night his parents had died.

It smelled like them, Din thought with a sad smile. It smelt like dust and blood, but his parents were there as well; woodsmoke and the spices in his grandmother's kitchen. It was the smallest piece of clothing he had, and it would have to do until he found something suitable for the child.

"Come here," Din said gruffly, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice. Was it right to dress the child in something like this? Would he balk? What if the child didn't like it?

The baby reached for Din, and Din took the child in his arms, looking for him to calm before he slipped the tunic up and over the baby's head.

The baby giggled, buried in a mess of red fabric. Din smiled as a green ear poked from the neck hole, followed by his smiling face.

"Is this okay?" Din asked, pulling the child's arms through the holes. They were too large, of course, but Din tied the loose fabric into a knot large enough for the child's arms to poke through. He secured the excess material of the bottom into a ball, knotting it as well.

The baby squirmed in Din's arms, and he pulled the child closer to his chest. "I hope that you're comfortable. At least this is clean,"

The child warbled into Din's ear and then sighed, content.

"This used to be mine," Din said, pulling the hood away from the baby's ears. "When I was an _ad,_ " 

The baby tilted his head, and Din smiled, pleased that the child was pleased. 

Din moved to lay the child back on his cot, but the baby protested, his claws clinging to Din's shoulder. "No, I'm not leaving," Din said, his heart breaking at the child's clinginess. "I'm going to dress, too. Rest, I'll be back,"

The child relented, and Din set him down gently before turning back to the armour rack. He turned the corner before undressing, pulling off his dripping tunic and hanging it over the shower unit. He washed the baby's jumper in the sink before hanging it to dry as well.

Din turned his head towards where the child was before slipping his helmet off his head with a familiar hiss. The face looking back at him in the mirror was afraid, hesitant. He wished that he had what the baby needed from him. Would he be frightened, would the baby cry if he showed him his face?

He brushed his teeth quickly and ran a cloth over his face and a comb through his hair. His moustache was relatively neat, and he wasn't injured. The bruises on his cheekbones had healed nicely, and other than old scars, he was as put together as he had been in a long time. As the child's guardian, the baby was permitted to know Din's face. He knew that he was nothing special to look at, but he hoped that the baby wouldn't be afraid.

He slipped into a dry tunic quickly, running a hand through his hair anxiously before leaving the 'fresher, feeling more exposed than he had in a long time. The baby was playing with the loose edge of the red tunic when Din walked in, his breath short and fast. The baby cooed and looked up, his eyes wide as Din sat down beside him. Din pulled the child onto his lap, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

" _S'cuy, Ad'ika,"_ Din said quietly, letting the words he had told the child flow through his mind. The pledge of fatherhood hung softly on his heart; the formal ownership of the child's wellbeing had not been taken lightly.

It was only a sentence, a short one at that. But Din removed his helm and brought the child close to him, their foreheads touching, little claws gripping the scruff of Din's chin as he repeated the words over and over. He tried to tell the child how much he cared for him, how much he _loved_ him, even without words. His throat had thickened as the child's eyes widened at the sight. Din knew that he was nothing special to look at, but he hoped that the child wasn't disappointed.

But the child _laughed._

His eyes were so full of joy, a smile Din had never seen before lifted his mouth and dotted the cargo bay of the _Crest_ with laughter. His fingers grabbed for Din's nose, claws scrambling for purchase as Din smiled wide. The child's joy was infectious, and Din felt himself sharing in his happiness. They were a family, and even if Din never found the covert after the mess on Nevarro, they'd be a family together. Just the two of them.


End file.
